Wait For Me
by Angel St. Mathew
Summary: When a strange new girl starts attending PS118, people begin to wonder about her mismatched clothes and nervous personality, and she becomes a target for bullying. READ AUTHOR'S NOTE!
1. Pequeña Chica Extraño y Callado

**AUTHOR'S NOTE! PLEASE READ: Ok, readers, this is a story I started a while ago and now cannot remember where I was going with it. I like what's written so far and wouldn't feel right giving up on it entirely, so I'm submitting it with the hope that you will give me your ideas and comments on where you'd like the story to go. I'm pretty much open to anything (within reason), and the story leaves plenty of different routes by which one's imagination can travel, so I'd really like to hear from you. I have six relatively short chapters, and I'm also open to critiquing of my horrible Spanish titles. **

**Enjoy!**

**Wait For Me**

Chapter 1: Pequeña(tilde) Chica Extraño(tilde) y Callado (strange and quiet little girl)

The large, grey-bricked building seemed to loom over her with a cold unfriendliness. Her chocolate brown eyes were wide with uneasiness even in the sunlight of that bright April morning. Even her soft, brown braid couldn't hide her tensed shoulders. With her schoolbooks clutched tightly to her chest, she stepped uneasily toward the stairs leading to the entrance, her tattered, black and white sketchers scuffing the cement lightly. The crowd of high schoolers moving all around her was slowly becoming less, and she carefully read the hallway signs, looking for her new homeroom.

As she walked carefully, she was suddenly bumped into by a passing teenage boy dressed in brown corduroy pants and a black "Lead Zeppelin" T-shirt, along with a chain on his pants and another around his neck. He knocked her so hard that she dropped her books all over the floor.

No apology was given, the boy didn't even stop or look back, just continued on his way. She was already on her knees picking up her books when someone came and knelt down to help her.

"Oh my! Here, let me help you-" Said the older man. He was tall with sandy blond hair - well, what was left of it was sandy blond. He had a strange, flaky voice that made her a little uncomfortable at first, but it didn't take long for her to feel a little more at ease around him. He talked to her more as he helped her, and when they were both standing again, he asked, "Are you having trouble finding your class?" He had noticed her obvious distress.

"Um...yes..." She said slowly and quietly. "213?"

"Oh!" The teachers face brightened at this. "I'm the teacher of that class, my name is Mr. Simmons...You must be our new student!"

When she nodded, He smiled brilliantly. The principal had told him all about his new student, and he walked with her down the hallway toward the class, constantly chatting about his special class and how he knew she would feel right at home.

Somehow she doubted it.


	2. Si Tengo un Selecto

Chapter 2: Si Tengo un Selecto (if i had a choice)

The classroom hummed with the sound of various students doing their own thing, awaiting the arrival of their teacher who, for some, had been following them up the academic chain for years.

Too many years.

Sitting at a desk in the back of the class sat Helga G. Pataki, a young blond girl who was scribbling in a notebook with a purple gel pen. She wore a pair of blue jeans and a light pink t-shirt that fit her form slightly well, if only because it was a hand-me-down that she'd been wearing for a couple years. She had long since pitched the pink jumper of her elementary school years. She'd also ditched the pigtails, her hair now swept back in a loose, thrown together braid with an oddly large pink bow at the end, and although her unibrow was not quite as thick, it was still there.

Helga paused a moment to glance toward the front of the classroom at a boy sitting in one of the front row desks who also had blond hair, but it stuck out strangely from the top of his head. Actually, his hair had been like that for as long as she could remember, which was pretty much her whole life.

She sighed a small, almost inaudible sigh as she gazed at him.

Arnold, the one and only boy who still had her heart in the palm of his hand, though he did not know it.

Even though his hair still stuck up, despite his efforts to change it in any way, Arnold's appearance had also changed. Once he hit puberty, he grew to be 5'11, two inches taller than Helga, who'd already gone through her growth spurt by then and stopped growing at twelve years old. Arnold still wore his plaid shirt, only he'd had one of the Sunset Arms' newer boarders shorten the sleeves for him with her sewing machine, and now wore it without the sweater during the warmer season, still un-tucked. He also wore a pair of faded blue jeans, the same he'd been wearing for almost two years now, so they fit him pretty well, and he refused to part with this particular outfit because it was so darn comfortable!

"Hey, Arnold."

Arnold turned to his long standing best friend, Gerald Johannsen, practically star of the high school basketball team. Though Arnold had grown, it was Gerald who shot up to 6'3, aptly nicknamed 'the Giant' on occasion. He'd been forced to cut his hair down to only three inches above his head, since his hair started reaching the ceiling and he was having trouble getting through doorways.

"I heard that new student Mr. Simmon's been talkin' about is coming today."

"I thought she wasn't going to be here until tomorrow?" Arnold replied, this subject only being slightly interesting because it was strange to have a new student enter the class when the school year was only two and a half months from being finished.

"Nope," Gerald shook his head. "My man Fuzzy Slippers is _never_ wrong." Arnold knew better than to question Gerald's constant source of hidden information. As if on cueto Gerald's news, Mr. Simmons entered.

"Class, we have a new student today!" Mr. Simmons positively beamed as he walked into the classroom full of students, and they slowly made their way toward their seats to give him whatever small amount of attention they could muster.

Helga rolled her eyes at the announcement as she put her notebook and pen away. Most other students were unphased by this news, but there were a few whose interests was stirred.

Mr. Simmons looked behind him through the door in expectation, and there was a pause before the young brunette entered the room, once again clutching her school books tightly to her chest. She was obviously a complete bundle of nerves.

_Oh brother, _Helga couldn't help but think.

At the desk across from Helga sat Rhonda Wellington Lloyd, still the princess and keeper of the current fashion, as she was properly dressed in her form-fitting, properly styled Capri's and tank top. Her black hair was still short and cut to frame her face gorgeously. She blanched outwardly at the sight of the new girls' clothes.

_Is she not completely dense, _Rhonda thought with almost complete disgust. The new girl wore a small grey t-shirt and a blue and white tie-dyed wrap-skirt, obviously African or Indian made. But the girl seemed to be complete Caucasian. Though the outfit wasn't _too_ bad, and definitely fit her figure -lanky though it was- her tattered black and white sketchers clashed almost painfully.

Arnold had unconsciously raised one eyebrow at the girl. She wasn't much to look at, at least not at that moment. He could tell just by looking at her that she was a nervous wreck, and slightly pale, too. But there was a shy purity to her face that almost made it glow, in a abnormal sort of way.

Gerald noticed his friend and cleared his throat, and Arnold, who realized he'd been staring, quickly averting his eyes.

"This is Isabel McKinley, she's just moved here from Michigan. Let's everybody give her a warm welcome!"

There was a low collection of hi's and hello's from around the room, but nothing close to a greeting that said she was incredibly welcome.

"Isabel, here's your very own special desk right here." Mr. Simmons said, pointing to the empty desk on the other side of Arnold, who smiled at her. Isabel didn't smile, or make any move toward the seat. Her eyes seemed to be cast on the floor, and then she looked up at Mr. Simmons, begging a silent question with her eyes.

Mr. Simmons, with an understanding expression, bent down slightly and spoke low and softly to her. Not only had the principal filled him in on all he knew of the girl, he'd also warned him about _this._

_What a whack job_, thought Helga, crossing her arms over of her chest.

Finally, Isabel slowly made her way to the desk and slid onto the seat.

"Now then, let's get started..."

"I dunno, Gerald, maybe she's just shy." Sid said through a mouthful of food at lunch period.

"Or completely batty." Helga added with a slight laugh.

"Yeah, she does seem kind of strange...maybe she just needs someone to talk to." Said Arnold, the ever-present voice of reason as he looked over to where Isabel was sitting, which was a very odd place indeed.

Across the Mess Hall, on the floor next to the soda machine, sat Isabel. She had her tray sitting perfectly balanced on her crossed legs, and she lightly picked at her food with a fork, but didn't eat any of it. Arnold was pretty sure she hadn't eaten a single bite, and lunch period was half over already.

"I agree with Arnold." Phoebe said from her place next to Helga. She wore a pair of nicely fitting blue slacks and a light blue sweater that was three sizes too large over a white t-shirt. "It may simply be a case of social anxiety disorder." She continued.

"Or brain disorder." Helga said, which earned her a glare from Arnold.

"Maybe she's mute." Gerald said as he dabbed at his red #33 shirt, now sleeveless, with a wet wash rag where he'd spilled some of his soda.

"Mute?" Said a confused Lila. She was now slightly shorter than Arnold, and had yet to grow out of any of her freckles. She still had her braided pigtails and wore a pale-green jumper over a white t-shirt. Another outfit that Rhonda despised.

"Has anybody heard anything come out of her mouth yet?" Gerald said to prove his point.

"Maybe that's because no one's talked to her." Arnold said, still watching Isabel from where he sat.

"I have. I said hello to her in the ladies restroom." Phoebe stated.

"What did she say?"

"Nothing, she just gave a little smile, that's all."

"Well, at least she knows how to smile." Lila said optimistically.

"No one can make friends that way, though." Arnold said, seeming distressed.

"So why don't you go talk to her?" Gerald said, and Phoebe smiled.

"That's a wonderful idea, Gerald!"

Helga frowned. "What makes you guys think she'll talk to Arnoldo if she won't talk to anybody else?"

"Not to put Arnold on a pedestal, but he does seem to have a way with people in that area." Phoebe explained, and Arnolds face flushed slightly as he considered the option he'd been given. He knew from experience that he wasn't bad with fixing problems, but he didn't want people to think he could fix _any_ problem. He decided maybe it'd be good to at least try to talk to her.

But by that time, he was too late...


	3. Temo de mi Sombra

Chapter 3: Temo de mi Sombra (afraid of my shadow)

"Hi, there!"

Isabel jumped, her eyes wide and alert as Curly Gamelthorpe leaned against the soda machine, smiling down at her. The hand he wasn't leaning on was shoved casually into the pocket of his stonewash jeans, and his maroon golf shirt had a penguin stitched in the top left-hand corner.

"What's a pretty little thing like you doin' way over here?" He continued, his 'ladies-man charm' running full throttle, but Isabel didn't say anything to him, only stared.

Curly grew slightly worried by this, but didn't let it show through his dashing smile. He had ditched the coke-bottle glasses years ago, replacing them with contacts, and his hair was only a couple inches off his shoulders, cut in a style that was popular in the mid-seventies.

"Curly Gamelthorpe." He volunteered, reaching out a hand to her. Isabel looked wearily at his extended hand, and as if she were being forcedshe reached up with a trembling right hand. Curly smiled wider and shook her hand vigorously before she practically pulled away.

"Isabel." She said in a very hushed tone, so quiet that Curly just barely heard her.

"Isabel, huh? Nice. You just moved here, right?"

Isabel nodded lightly.

"Whaddaya think?" He asked, and she lifted her shoulders ever-so-slightly in a weak shrug.

"It seems weird at first, but you'll get used to it. Everybody does eventually, they have to. Where'd you move from?" He asked then.

"Michigan." Isabel replied quietly, shifting the food on her plate around with a fork.

"Near the Amish folk? Cool, I went there once with my dad. You get to ride those buggies and stuff?"

Isabel shrugged lightly again, just as the bell rang.

"Well, I guess I'd better get goin'. See ya later!" Curly said, turning to go.

Isabel stayed where she was, watching the rest of the teenagers gather their things and exit the Mess Hall in a mad rush, talking with each other all the while. She seemed to be the only one who wasn't hurrying to get out, and Arnold noticed this as he followed behind Gerald toward the doors.

Quickly calculating the time between now and when he had to be in class, Arnold walked swiftly through the double doors and side stepped out of the crowd, waiting.

Once everyone had gone from the Mess Hall, Isabel slowly began to gather her tray and bag and stood, heading for the counter where she set her tray among the others. Then she headed for the doors, only to be side-tracked.

"Hi!"

Isabel nearly screamed, leaping backwards almost three feet, her hand flying to her chest.

"Oh, I'm sorry! I didn't mean to scare you-" Arnold apologized, bending down to pick up Isabel's bag, which she had dropped.

"Here." He said, handing it to her.

She hesitated at first, then slowly, she reached out and gripped the strap.

"Thank you." She said, almost in a whisper as she started down the hall again. Arnold jogged a couple steps to catch up with her.

"Mind if I walk with you?" He asked, and she only shrugged lightly.

"I'm Arnold, I sit across from you in class." Arnold said conversationally as they walked among the half-crowded hallway.

Isabel didn't respond, only kept walking. Arnold found this very odd, and he also found that he didn't know what to say next.

But luckily, it wasn't long before they were both back in class.

"So what do you think?"

Arnold ended his explanation of the events with the new girl to Miss Wright, the Sixth graders' History teacher. She was a nice lady in her mid-twenties, with long black hair that she kept back in a ponytail. She was almost as tall as Arnold, and very thin with only slight curves. She usually wore jean overalls with a small t-shirt and light blue, button-up sweater.

All the high school students knew her, and some even knew her pretty well, like Arnold. They all called her by her first name, Sarah.

"Well," Sarah said, lightly sifting through a stack of papers as she spoke. "I'm not sure what you want me to think, Arnold. I could ask the principal if he knows anything about her, like her past and such." She paused then. "But it would probably be better if you simply got to know her a little more." She knew Arnold, and she knew that befriending people was definitely not something that was difficult for him.

Arnold sighed slightly, twirling a pen in his fingers much like a computer geek he'd seen in a James Bond movie.

Noting his distress, Sarah set the papers down and folded her arms on the desk. "Arnold, is it bothering you that much?"

Arnold looked up, and frowned. "I don't know. She's just so weird..."

The young librarian smiled. "You've barely known her a day, give her a chance. Maybe she just needs a friend."

"That's what I thought, too. But like I said, she'll barely talk to anybody. It's like she's afraid of people, _any_ people!" Arnold said, and now it was Sarah's turn to sigh. She could tell Arnold was very upset about this girl, and she had always been able to help him before.

"Arnold, the only thing I can tell you is to just keep being a friend to her, I'm sure she'll come around. Worrying never added years to anybody's life." She said with a smile, and Arnold returned it, though weakly.

"Yeah, I guess you're right." He said, getting up to go. "Thanks, Sarah."

"Anytime, kid." Sarah said as she watched him go.

What she hadn't told Arnold was that someone else had been there earlier to talk to her about this new girl, too, but it seemed to have been for a different reason.


	4. Geek Went A'Courtin'

Chapter 4: Geek Went A'Courtin'

When Arnold got home that afternoon, he decided to give Curly a call. He was the only other person who had spoken with her, after all. Arnold and Curly were pretty casual friends, especially when they reached high school and Curly no longer muttered to himself about the whole Ball Monitor incident. He had actually gotten slightly more sane, but was still a little crazy, and still considered himself to be the top Ladies Man in Hillwood.

"Hello?" Came a woman's voice on the other end of the phone line. She sounded drowsy, as if she'd just woken up.

"Hi, is Curly there?"

"Yeah...sure..."

Arnold heard a sudden crack in the receiver as it was apparently dropped onto a table or something, then softly retreating footsteps. Arnold jumped a little when he heard Curly's mother screech his name at the top of her lungs, as if she was calling across a twenty-acre park. Muffled words, then footsteps.

"Hello?"

"Hey Curly, it's Arnold."

"Hey, man. What's up?"

"I was just wondering about something, and I thought maybe you could help me out a little."

"OK, shoot."

"You talked to Isabel today at lunch period, didn't you?"

"Yeah...What, you like her or somethin'?"

Arnold couldn't help but roll his eyes a little, even if the note in Curly's voice was a little odd when he said it, almost defensive.

"No, actually, I was wondering what exactly you guys talked about. I mean, if you don't want to say, that's fine. I don't want to impose or anything-"

"No sweat, Arnold. I did most of the talking, actually. Just introducing myself and such, she didn't say much, no entire sentences or anything."

"Oh."

"She is kinda odd, though."

"Yeah, she only just started coming to school today." Arnold said, remembering the way she'd looked when Curly walked up to her, almost like a tiny kitten cornered by a pit bull.

"Do you know if she talked to anybody else." He asked.

"I don't think so, but someone told me they saw some of the older guys messin' with her." Curly said.

"Huh? Who told you that?"

"Harold, why?"

"Forget it. Thanks a lot, Curl. I'll see you tomorrow."

"Ok, see ya, man."

After hanging up, Arnold picked up the phone again and dialed Harold Barman's number. Harold, like everyone else, had changed. He'd lost a lot of weight shortly after hitting puberty, but unfortunately hadn't grown much taller than he already was, now standing a couple inches shorter than Arnold. He was strong though, a prime football player who'd replaced his access pounds with muscle.

Arnold waited, and the phone rang four times before it was answered.

"Yeah?"

"Hi, is this Harold?"

"Yeah, who's this?"

"It's Arnold."

"Oh, hey, Arnold."

"Curly said you had seen some guys messing with that new girl, Isabel."

"Yeah, what about it?"

"Do you know who it was?"

"Some Senior guys, I think. I don't know who it was."

"Did they do anything to her? You know, they didn't hurt her or anything did they?"

"I don't know. I'd have given them guys a good sock in the gut if I could have, but I was on the bus. It left before I could see anything."

_Crap_, Arnold thought.

"Ok, thanks anyway, bye."

"Bye."

Arnold hung up the phone, walked into the kitchen, and sat heavily into one of the kitchen table chairs, frowning. Now he would be forced to wait until tomorrow to find out anything else.

The next day at school, Arnold could barely concentrate on his work, with Isabel sitting right across from him and all. Even if he wasn't looking straight at her, he could tell she was shaking. At one point, Mr. Moore had mentioned to Arnold about him not paying attention.

Helga had noticed it too.

"This is really eating you, isn't it?" Gerald said at lunch that day, and Arnold sighed, taking a rather large bite of his hotdog.

"I don't know why, I just can't get her off my mind. She's so odd..." He said after he'd swallowed, letting his sentence trail as he glanced across the Mess Hall to where Isabel sat, once again, on the floor near the soda machine, alone.

"Maybe try talking to her again, see if she'll lighten up." Gerald suggested.

"I tried that already today, twice."

"Well, I don't know, man. Maybe you should just lay off."

"What good would that do?" Arnold asked, frowning slightly.

"I dunno."

"You think maybe she's got a bad home life or something?" Arnold suggested.

"Want me to check it out for ya?"

"Yeah. Not any personal stuff, maybe just basic, like if she was abused, or... or a foster kid or something." Arnold said. He didn't like to pry into peoples personal lives too much.

"No problem, man."


	5. Consiguiendo a Te Se

Chapter 5: Consiguiendo a Te Se (accent) (getting to know you)

That afternoon as kids sat around the school yard waiting to board their respective busses, Curly had climbed up a tree and was sitting silently, watching the other students lumbering around and doing their own things. He noted with a smirk that Rhonda, once the object of his affections, was standing at the head of a line waiting for the bus with five or six other girls around her, all dressed in the latest style and chattering about something in their high-and-mighty, bleach blond voices. Curly knew that Rhonda was the only one in that group who actually had half their brain in tact.

He saw some other people too, like Arnold and Gerald talking by the entrance of the school. Harold, Stinky, and Sid were over by the flag pole with a couple other kids, no doubt trying to devise a way to steal someone's underwear and string it up in place of the American flag. Curly had done it only a couple weeks ago with one of the seniors' pairs of boxers that was covered with cute little chicks and bunny rabbits in shades of pink and yellow. He'd gotten away with it without getting caught, too, which got on the others' nerves because twice when they had tried, they'd been caught either in the act of stealing, which earned them all quite a beating, or after they already had it on the flagpole and all evidence pointed to them.

No matter, they'd never pull it off like Curly had. He'd learned from past experience how to go about pulling the perfect prank, and was now quite the pro, though few people knew. He hoped to share some of his stories with one particular person...

Curly's eyes lit up at the sight of her, and he watched from his perch as she made her way toward the sidewalk.

Isabel swung her worn backpack onto one shoulder as she started down the sidewalk, her eyes on the pavement and her steps slow but determined, as though she knew her destination and wanted to reach it as quickly as possible without any delays.

Curly jumped down from the tree and started after her, but then stopped. It was the newest and strangest feeling he'd experienced, but something told him not to follow her. It was sudden, almost like a nervous fear. He watched her quickly retreating form and frowned deeply.

_What is up with me, _he thought. He'd never felt hesitation before when he wanted to get a girls attention. But somehow, this time, leaving her alone felt right. For now.

It was almost a week before Gerald mentioned anything about the conversation they'd had during lunch the other day. They met at the bus stop.

"Hey Arnold, got some news for ya." Gerald said in greeting as they stood waiting, slightly separated from the other kids.

"Fuzzy Slippers came through, I got some hot info."

"I don't want to go into anything really personal, Gerald-"

"Hey, no problem there.Turns out there wasn't much to find.She's not a foster kid, but she is living with her uncle here in the city. Her folks got killed in a house fire a couple months ago, but her uncle got custody over her and brought her down here to live with him."

"That's got to be hard." Arnold said sadly.

"It gets worse."

"Ugh..."

"The word is that she barely got out of the house fire herself, kind of traumatized her or something. Fuzzy Slippers thinks she may have had some siblings or something, but he couldn't find anything on them." Gerald went on.

"That's terrible..." Arnold said as they both boarded the bus behind the last of the other kids.

"I figured that was why Izzy is the way she is, and was gonna thank Fuzzy Slippers, but then he told me more about some friend she had back in Michigan. Some guy she'd known".

Arnold looked a little confused. "Boyfriend?"

"Nah, but very close. Fuzzy Slippers couldn't find alot of detail about him, just that he was around alot when her grandparents were trying to win the custody battle over her".

"Why didn't they?"

"Her grandma's got some type of somethin', Parkinson's I think he said. But majority ruled and she was sent here with her Uncle, the debate was pretty bad".

"And long, apparently."

"That's sad." Arnold said, scuffing his shoes on the floor of the bus as they walked down the isle to get off and head for class.

"Tell me about it, not to mention the new friends she's been making!"

"New friends?"

"Yeah, Ted and his cronies over there." Gerald pointed over to the steps leading to the main entrance of the school, where a Senior named Ted and his three buddies were talking and laughing, obviously at somebody else's expense.

"What'd they do?"

"Principal Andrews caught them messing with her in the hall a couple days ago, not to mention a couple other people who told me they saw her getting harassed by 'em".

Arnold sensed a smoldering sensation in the pit of his stomach as he glared in Ted's direction. Gerald glanced at his friend, worried.

"Hey man, this is really shakin' you up, isn't it?"

Arnold snapped out of his thoughts and looked over at Gerald, then sighed slightly. "I don't know, Gerald, I just haven't been able to get her off of my mind, not since day one".

"But why? You like her that much?"

Arnold frowned at him. "No, that's what's so strange. She's just kind of caught my attention, I guess. But not in that way."

"Whatever you say, man."

The bell chose that time to ring, and they headed for class. Arnold couldn't take his eyes off of Ted, he'd always disliked him for his haughty persona and the way he treated anybody who he thought to be lower than himself, which was pretty much everyone. Thank God he was graduating that year, and they wouldn't have to deal with him anymore.

That afternoon in class, Arnold had an easier time concentrating on his work, but his mind still dwelt on Isabel quite a bit. Every once in a while he glanced in her direction, noting for the hundredth time how her hands shook and that she always bent over her desk when she was writing or reading.

He wondered about the relationship she'd had with that friend back in Michigan, what he'd done that had made him such a good friend. He wondered if he could be that kind of friend, or any kind of friend. She sure seemed like she needed one.

Meanwhile in the back of the classroom, two other minds were on this Isabel McKinley.

Helga nearly cracked her pen between her teeth with irritation. How in the world had this weird little shrimp managed to attract Arnold's attention like this? She was the complete opposite of everything Arnold seemed to like in a girl,_ and_ the complete opposite of everything Helga was!

_She's just plain weird_, Helga thought, too distraught and confused to even frown. She knew she'd have plenty of time to be mad and come up with evil plots of destruction later. Right now she was just trying to get over the confusion and shock.

Curly doodled furiously around the edges of his notebook paper, long finished copying off the blackboard. He often got in trouble for doodling, but he didn't care.

_Arnold sure seems to be paying a lot of attention to her, _his mind's voice said once again. _Maybe a plan of action should be put into motion._

No Curly reasoned with himself, I can't yet

_Why the heck not! What's wrong with you lately?_

It just doesn't feel right yet. It's like I'd be treading on her personal space. I don't want to do that

_You never had a problem with it before, _the voice mocked.

This is different. She seems really scared Curly paused for a second, I don't want to scare her away. I don't want _anyone_ to scare her away

He thought about what he'd overheard Harold saying the other day about Ted and his friends harassing her.

I want her to feel safe

_Well she's definitely not going to get that from you. _

"Shut up." Curly muttered to himself, unaware that he'd spoken out loud.

Helga, who sat one desk across from him, looked over at him.

Feeling her stare, he looked up, and she scowled at him before turning her attention back toward the desk toward the front.

Curly ignored her for a moment, and then looked back at her. A slightly confused look crossed his face when he noticed her intense stare and the strange conflict of expressions playing on her face. Following her gaze easily enough, he saw right away what, or who, she was staring at.

_Man, she is so weird, _his mind's voice spoke. He turned back to his doodling, not giving it another thought.

_So what are you going to do? _His mind demanded, reverting back to the former topic of discussion.

I don't know Curly thought for a little while. I have to gain her trust somehow

_Trust? Whoa, man. Are you going for the long haul or what?_

Curly scowled again. This was definitely not like him at all. But he was willing to try a new tactic for this girl. More than willing.


	6. Buscando Remedio

Chapter 6: Buscando Remedio (Looking for help)

"Hi, Rhonda."

Rhonda Wellington Lloyd turned around to see who was addressing her, and was immediately stunned into silence. But only briefly.

"What do _you_ want?" She demanded, clearly put-out by the fact that he had dared interrupt her lecture about the right type of lip gloss for girls with different complexions. The ditsy girls surrounding her were also stunned by his casual approach.

"Can I talk to you? It will only take a se-"

"Thaddeus Gamelthorpe! Do you have any idea how rude you are? I was in the middle of a very important discussion." Rhonda declared with her little nose raised.

Curly almost curled his own nose in disgust at her pompous behavior, but held himself in check. If he was going to get anything from her, he would need to play his cards just right. And he knew exactly how.

"Please, Rhonda? It's very important, and you're the only one in the whole school who can help me." He put on just the right facial expression, making it apparent that he was begging and flattering her, but not that he was obviously putting on an act. "Please?"

Rhonda seemed to consider, and for a moment Curly was afraid she wouldn't take the bait. Then a thin smile graced her perfect lips.

"Alright, but only a moment. My time is precious and I have very little to spare on trivial matters."

_And what do you consider all the other things you spend time on_, Curly thought, but didn't say.

Rhonda turned back to her loyal followers. "Excuse me one moment, ladies, this won't take long."

She followed Curly a few feet down the hall, away from the other girls.

"Ok, I need your advice on something."

"If it has anything to do with your looks, I'm sorry, but there's nothing I can-"

"No, that's not it. I need to know what girls like."

Rhonda was silent a moment, clearly not understanding the question. "Excuse me?"

"I want to buy something for someone, or...or do something for them. What should I do?"

"Well, that all depends on who the unfortunate young lady, or man, is."

A dark look crossed his face at her little comment, and he almost smacked her, but didn't. He had to keep reminding himself that this was just the way that Rhonda was, and he'd have to keep his cool if he wanted to get any help from her.

"It's for Isabel McKinley."

This time it was Rhonda's turn to look disgusted. "Ugh! _That_ little fashion disaster? Thaddeus, darling, I'm afraid I can't help you on that one."

Once again, Curly had to resist the urge to smack her. How could she be so nasty? And what had ever possessed him to like her for so long?

"Please, Rhonda! I need your help!"

"If you want my advice, buy her some new clothes. New shoes alone would probably do her a world of good." Then she looked Curly up and down. "You two seem to have the same taste in style, I'm sure shopping for her won't be hard." And with that, she walked away.

Curly stood alone in the hallway, both surprised and angry with himself.

_Fool! Did you honestly think Miss Princess would have any decent advice for you?_

Well, who else was I going to ask! Curly replied to the voice as he turned and stormed off toward the entrance of the school.

_It doesn't matter now, what's done is done and you're still where you were ten minutes ago. Time to take action_.

No, there's got to be someone else I can ask

It was just as Curly was stepping outside into the sunlight that fate decided to play him a good hand. His eyes immediately landed on a certain football-headed teenager climbing onto a nearby bus.

_Of course, Arnold!_

But it was too late to catch him now. Curly made a promise to talk to him tomorrow. Surely _he_ would be able to help him.

_But isn't Arnold the one who's been staring at her in class all day?_

Curly paused at the bottom of the stairs as the thought crossed his mind. Arnold _had_ called to ask about her the other day, but he'd said that he didn't like her, at least not in that way.

_He might have been lying_, the voice in his head pointed out.

I doubt it. He sounded more like he was just curious about her Curly wished he could be sure that what Arnold had said was true, and he hoped that asking for his advice would reveal whether or not he actually did like Isabel.

The next day at school, Curly shoved the last of his books into his backpack and closed his locker, spinning the lock as he turned and walked down the hall quickly. He hadn't had an opportunity to talk to Arnold all day, and hoped to catch him out on the school grounds before he got on his bus.

As he made his way down the hall, he could see Isabel a few doors down getting some things out of her locker. He paused and watched her a moment, wondering if, as he passed, perhaps he should strike up a conversation with her.

As he was standing there, though,he found himself witnessing one of many incidents that had befallen the strange girl over the past week. One of Ted's nameless buddies was passing by and ran one of his brawny shoulders into her small form, knocking her against the open locker door and to the floor.

The gesture did not shock Curly; it had happened to him more than once. However, as he watched her stumble to the floor without a sound of surprise or objection,he suddenly felt his blood pressure rising. When ever he'd been knocked around, most of the time he'd been asking for it in the first place. But there was nothing Isabel had done in her one week of being here that deserved such treatment.

Curly took a couple steps foreword, intent on rushing the heartless brute and knocking him into the linoleum, but stopped himself. He knew he would probably just get himself shoved into a locker if he tried to avenge Isabel. And not only that, but it might make matters worse for her.

The older boy was disappearing down the hallway, not giving Isabel a second, or even a first, glance. Grateful for this, Curly cleared the distance between himself and the spindly brunette, knowing he wouldn't have to worry about any interference from unwanted company.

"Are you alright?" He asked, reaching down to help her.

"Yeah." She said quietly, holding her shoulder with one hand while trying to pick up a few books with the other.

"I'll get those." Curly said, gathering the items and putting them in her bag.

Isabel stared at him a moment as he did this, and he zipped her bag and stood, helping her up with him.

"Thank you." She said, taking her bag. When she moved her hand from her shoulder, Curly saw the tiny red spot on her grey shirt, just above her right collar bone.

"You're bleeding!" He said, his brows drawing inward in sudden concern. Isabel looked down at the slowly growing mark.

"I'll be ok." She said in the same quiet voice she always used.

"Want me to take you to the nurse?" He hoped she'd say yes, but she only shook her head.

"Well, here, let me give you a band-aid, at least..." He said, digging into multiple pockets in his backpack, searching for the band-aids he always kept on hand for his numerous 'trips and falls'.

Isabel made no objection as he dug around in his bag, at last pulling out a rumpled looking band-aid, which he handed to her. She put her bag down and opened the band-aid, but couldn't quite get it on.

"Here, let me-" But when he took a step toward her, she pulled back quickly with a wide-eyed look, and Curly realized right away what he'd done.

_What a place to get a nasty cut,_ he thought, _stupid, stupid..._

Isabel succeeded in applying the band-aid and Curly walked to the entrance with her.

"Do they bother you a lot?" He finally asked.

"Kind of." She said, clutching the strap of her backpack securely.

"Any idea why?"

She was quiet a moment as they reached the sidewalk. "Because they can, I guess." She paused a moment, as if she expected him to walk away now, but he didn't.

"Well, that's no reason, if you ask me." He said, pausing with her and clearly unaware of her expectance. So she kept walking, Curly walking beside her. They were both silent for a long while, and it didn't matter when they passed Curly's street. For some reason, he was curious to see where she lived.

"So, you've met Arnold, right?" He asked. He didn't really want to talk about Arnold, but he didn't know what else to ask her. She only nodded.

"He's a good guy, pretty popular with everybody at school."

And then there was another long silence as they walked, and Curly's mind decided to butt in.

_Ask her out_.

No!

_What are you, chicken? Just ask her, couldn't hurt any_.

I don't want to scare her away

_You won't scare her! The worst thing she could do is say no. Come on, you pansy_.

They were stopping outside a brick apartment building, and Curly knew that if he was going to act, he needed to do it now.

"Uh, Isabel?"

She looked at him questioningly, almost nervously, as if she knew what he was about to ask. He summed up all his courage before speaking, trying to make extra sure that he didn't stutter.

Ugh, what's wrong with me? I _never_ stutter when I ask a girl out!

"Listen, would you like to...uh, that is, you wanna grab a milkshake or something sometime? It's Friday, we don't have to worry about homework until Sunday night." He said, cracking a little smile as if he'd just made a joke. If he hadn't known any better, he could have sworn that Isabel had smiled a little. But just a little.

Then a very sad look crossed her face. "I'm sorry, I can't."

_Stay calm, stay calm_, he thought, trying not to look too disappointed.

"Oh, ok. Maybe some other time then." He said, attempting to sound casual but knowing that he was failing. "Bye." He turned to go, and Isabel climbed the first three steps of the building's entrance before turning and watching the boy walk down the sidewalk.

Her expression now held a mixture of sadness and curiosity. And perhaps just a hint of longing.


End file.
